


Dragons of First Light

by Phoenix_Dfire



Series: Dragons of First Light [1]
Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Dfire/pseuds/Phoenix_Dfire
Summary: During the War of the Lance, just after the metallic Dragons have returned. Laurana has set up training camps for the Knight of Solomia and the Dragons to practice using the Dragonlance. Sir Saran D'Thane, Knight of the Crown, isn't what you could call the best Dragonrider. Working with his mount, the veteran Bronze Dragon 'Bolt', he has to learn that riding a dragon is very different from riding a horse. Together, they must learn to trust one another if they have any chance of surviving the battles to come.
Series: Dragons of First Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948093
Kudos: 3





	Dragons of First Light

**Chapter One – Dragons at First Light**

Sir Saran D'Thane gripped the reigns tightly, although it was more for his benefit that his steed. His problem was that his steed was not one of the many war horses he'd trained on to gain his spurs. His steed was a fifteen-meter-long bronze dragon which was flying over two hundred metres above the surface of Krynn.

The other thing that bothered him was that his mount was a far older, wiser and far more intelligent than himself, not a dumb beast who would obey a pull on the reigns. He always had the impression that to a dragon, a pull on the reigns was a suggestion, rather than a command. As had been explained to him, a dragon and his rider must learn to work together, if they were to be an effective fighting force against the armies of Takhisis.

'Set the lance!' advised his mount.

Sir Saran, leant forward and grabbed the legendary Dragonlance. The weapon was set into the saddle, with the long silver shaft reached out far in front of the Bronze Dragon's head. Ahead, was a massive red dragon, or rather a kite made to resemble one. If the red dragons were as large as their target, it was going to take all of Sir Saran's courage and, probably bowel control, to face them.

He quickly moved the lance over to the left a little to line up the target. With a bit of luck, they'll get this one and the exercise will be over. His steed's powerful wings pulled them through the air, pulling the tip of the lance closer to its target. Closer, closer, almost there. Just as the lance was going touch the kite, he was hit by a cold, wet and sticky substance.

'Argh!', Saran called out in disgust.

His steed seemed to sigh in disappointment.

'You're Dead, Sir Saran!' shouted a voice from above and behind them.

Sir Saran suppressed the vast amount of colourful unknightly language that going through his head and looked up at the source of the voice. There, on the back of a huge Silver Dragon, an elf looked very smug with himself. The larger beast fell into formation next to him bringing the Elf level with him. Gilthanas regarded Saran with a look of disappointment for a second and then shook his head. Saran knew who the elf was, the younger son of the ruler Qualinesti elves, and directly responsible for bringing the Metallic Dragons back into the war.

'That was cheating,' Saran complained. 'That was the first time I was going to get the kite.'

'Oh?' Gilthanas' face was grim. 'Suppose that I had been a black dragon, that honey bomb would have been acid. All that would have been left of you would have been melted armour and Bolt here would have got a burnt back. Admittedly, not as burnt as if you hadn't been there but we want riders to be more than meat shields.'

'A rider is there to be an extra pair of eyes as well as helping with the lance,' the elf continued. 'You have a be aware, this is three dimensions we're dealing with.'

'Yes Sir,' Saran grumbled. 'Understood.'

With that, the elf gave him a nod and pulled away, leaving the Knight with some very dark thoughts. Every single time he came up on these training flights, he did something wrong or that damn elf did something to make him fail. Which probably meant that he'd have to do the whole exercise again. Then he remembered his manners.

'Sorry, Bolt,' he apologised to the dragon he was riding. 'I guess we'll have to do it again.'

'Sir Saran,' the majestic lizard said. 'I think we're done.'

'Done?' Saran asked with a worried tone in his voice. 'As in back to the cavalry done?'

Bolt snorted, which made Saran jump in his seat. 'No, the sun is too low. Training is almost over for today.'

'Oh, thank the gods,' Saran breathed out a sigh of relief. 'It's just sometimes I feel like I'm not the best at this.'

'You're not the best rider I've had, ' admitted Bolt. 'However, you do learn from your mistakes, which is more than I can say for others I've flown with. That's why we train, to learn from mistakes.'

The dragon banked over to the left and began to glide in towards a camp site in the distance. Saran looked about as the lethianian came into land, making sure that Gilthanus wouldn't do the same trick twice. However, because he wasn't paying attention to the landing, he was almost jolted out of his seat when the dragon's claws touched down.

He wasn't sure but was Bolt smirking at him as he recovered from the landing. Footmen ran up and put a ladder by the saddle as the knight undid the straps securing him. Carefully, he removed the Dragonlance from its mounting and slowly climbed down the ladder.

'Better luck next time,' said Hargrives, one of the footmen and his personal retainer. 'I thought that was a right dirty trick.'

'Not as dirty as the way the enemy is going to fight apparently,' Saran replied to Hargreeves. 'Could you be so kind to unbuckle Bolt's harness? I have to secure the lance.'

'Of course sir,' replied Hargreeves who turned to face the Dragon. 'That's if it's ok with his Lordship!'

'Yes Hargreeves,' replied Bolt majestically. 'Just don't try to pinch this time.'

Hargreeves' face dropped in shock but Saran could tell that Bolt was joking. If someone had told him a month ago, that a dragon could smile in a mischievous way, he would have been very sceptical. However, Bolt appeared to have a very dry and impish sense of humour and teasing both the footmen and himself, seemed to be his favourite pastime.

'Tomorrow then?' Saran asked Bolt.

'Tomorrow,' the dragon replied.

Sir Saran walked to the armoury, where he signed the Dragonlance back in. After the day he had, he needed a drink and decided to drop by the 'Tavern', a makeshift pop up bar just outside the camp's edge. Whenever the camp moved, the 'Tavern' followed. The enterprising barkeep had found out that looking after dragons and learning how to fly them turned out to be very thirsty work. Most nights the bar would be bulging with people recovering from the day's excursions.

However, it appeared Saran had arrived too early and, for once, the bar was empty. He pulled up a seat in the corner and the waitress, a lady in her mid-thirties with long braided black hair, took his order and then let him alone with his thoughts.

Sir Saran was a Knight of the Crown, the lowest order in the Knights of Solamnia. He had just completed his training and received his spurs a few days before he had been shipped out as part of the forces to defend Palanthas, the capital city of Solamnia. In an unfortunate turn of events, it turned out that the city didn't want them and so they had encamped at the High Clerist's Tower a few days travel away.

He'd been placed under the command of Sturm Brightblade and was one of the few to survive the horrendous events that followed. As the tankard arrived, his thoughts floated back to the battle at the Tower. They'd lost two thirds of their force thanks to a stupid political infighting and they'd even lost their commanding officer. However, thanks to his sacrifice, an elf maiden, a grumpy dwarf and, gods forbid, a Kender, they had prevailed that day.

Since then, the Elf Maiden Laurana and sister of Gilthanas, had forged the remaining armies into a fighting force which could withstand the onslaught of the armies of Takhisis. And when Gilthanas had returned with the metallic dragons of Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper and Brass to fight on their side, people began to believe that this slight Elf Maiden, with her long golden blonde hair, could defeat the enemy.

The legend of the "golden general" soon started afterwards but Saran would always remember her as the angry young woman, who berated them all at the burial service after the Battle of the Tower. Angry at everyone because of the loss of her friend, Sturm, on the battlements. He remembered his commanding officer, standing alone, facing three of the largest Blue Dragons Saran had ever seen. He'd died in a desperate attempt to buy time to allow the remaining knights to set a trap for theose dragons.

He looked down at his tankard to find the ale gone, he hadn't even realised he had drunk it. He looked about and he noticed it was approaching dusk. As the Tavern was beginning to fill up with people from the camp, he found he wasn't in the mood to join in. Saran decided that he might as well make an early night of it. Bolt would want to fly at first light and the last thing he wanted was some hungover knight on his back.

Saran groaned as he stood up. Being saddle sore from riding a horse was one thing but being saddle sore from a dragon? That was another level of pain.

Hargreeves was still asleep when Saran woke. The spring morning chill had seeped into his warm slumber and wouldn't let go. Saran allowed a sigh to escape him and he swung his legs out from the cot. It didn't take him long to get ready and he was about to wake Hargreeves but changed his mind at the last second.

Saran noticed that his armour had been polished. This retainer must have done it during the night. His man servant was twice his age and as loyal as you could get. He'd done such a good job, why not let him rest. He quickly wrote a note, giving Hargreeves the morning off, and set off to help Bolt with the saddle.

The dragons had their own stables. Saran couldn't think of anything else to call them. They were huge barns, probably erected by magic, which held two dragons each. Even so, the dragons looked cramped inside and always seemed more comfortable when emerging into the outside air. He'd picked up the dragon saddle and made his way to the staging area, to wait for Bolt to arrive. As he was passing Bolt's stable, he overheard voices.

'Are you sure you want to stick with that one?' came a voice in common.

'Quite sure,' replied another, which was obviously Bolt.

'Sir Traygan is a Knight of the Sword and would be a better fit,' the first voice stated flatly.

'I don't know if Sir Traygan would respect my opinion in some matters,' Bolt replied. 'Some Knights just see us as flying horses.'

'Yes, I understand,' replied the first voice. 'It's just that Gilthanas has reported that …'

'Forgive me my Lady,' Bolt interrupted. 'But your brother is being very hard on this young Knight, for some reason that I cannot fathom. I feel Sir Saran is almost there as a Dragon-rider, he needs a bit more confidence, that's all.'

'I see,' replied the first voice. 'Well, I'll defer to your judgement for the moment but remember there's always Sir Traygan if this doesn't work out.'

'There is no need,' replied Bolt. 'He will be fine.'

Saran almost ran to the staging area and started to prepare the saddle, all while keeping one eye on Bolt's stable door. A couple of minutes later an elf woman, with long blonde hair, emerged and marched off in a different direction. Sir Saran's stomach just turned to ice. The golden general had been looking to replace him even before he'd finished training. Bolt emerged a few minutes later, looking bleary eyed for a dragon. The massive beast walked round to the staging area and stood next to the Knight looking a little bemused.

'You're early Sir Saran,' observed Bolt. 'And no Hargreeves either. Did you dismiss him from your service?'

'Oh No, Bolt,' explained Saran. 'I've given him the morning off. He was working late into the night polishing this armour. The man needs a rest.'

'I see,' Bold said, indicating the saddle. 'Shall we?'

It took Saran about five minutes to put the saddle on the huge creature and after making sure it was secured properly, he quickly retrieved a Dragonlance from the armoury. It was a little awkward to fit it by himself, but eventually the long silver lance clicked into place. All the time Bolt seemed to patiently wait. However, every once in a while, he got an unnerving look from the dragon.

Once all set up, Saran walked around Bolt. Inspecting his handywork. It seemed secure and all in the proper place but Saran was nervous he'd missed something. He shrugged his shoulders and walked around to the dragon's side.

'Does everything feel alright?' he asked Bolt.

'Yes,' replied Bolt. 'although the left shoulder is a bit tight.'

'Ah, right.'

Saran quickly run around and made a small adjustment.

'How's that?'

The Dragon grunted an affirmative, so Saran climbed on top of the dragon's back and started to strap himself in.

'Is there anything you want to try today?' he asked his mount.

'I thought a quick flight to stretch my wings and warm up and then…' Bolt started to say.

'Sir Knight? Sir Knight?'

Saran looked around and there was a boy, probably about 10 or eleven running towards them.

'I've just received a message from the mage.' The boy reported. 'There's a couple of dragons to the south west and they're headed this way.'

'What's your name lad?' said Saran.

'Altone Sir,' replied the boy.

'Altone! Go tell the General. I saw her head in that direction,' ordered Saran, pointing in the direction he's last seen her. 'Inform her that Bolt and Sir Saran will be going to investigate what these dragons are.'

Here was his opportunity to show the general that Sir Traygan had no place on the back of this Dragon.

'Yes sir,' shouted Altone and he turned and ran off to look for the Golden General, herself.

Saran turned to Bolt and a sudden thought came to him.

'I apologies,' he quickly said. 'I've just volunteered us without consulting you.'

'Calm yourself Sir Saran,' replied the Dragon as he began to spread his wings. 'I was going to go after them anyway, even if you were ready or not.'

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note :- Just an old story I've got banging about in the back of my head for a while. I'm going to try for a Monthly Update and I feel that there are about ten chapters to it (although, we'll see). Let me know if you want more.


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